This afternoon, as I stepped out of my hotel in Brussels, I heard a woman singing opera. As I got closer, a deep bass joined her in a duet. They were performing in front of a cathedral. I sat on a bench and watched until they finished. I felt the sun on my legs, summer heat warming between my thighs.
I’ve been horny for days. Two days ago, with a free hour, I ground my clit into a pillow, watching men cum on my phone. It helped but it hasn’t released the ache.
I listened to those singers and became wet, flush with the sun and the gratitude I felt at being in that place at that moment. I wanted a man to walk over to my bench and kiss me. No words of introduction, just a long and earnest kiss that says I want to fuck your brains out. For that man to then bend me over that bench, lift my dress, pull down my knickers and slide his hand down over my arse and into my cunt.
One finger, two, three. It’s hot and sweaty and I feel the crowd of opera appreciators start to stare, spotting from the corners of their eyes a distraction much greater than trills. A woman being fucked from behind over a bench. A man groaning loudly as he cums inside her.
The applause … well, that was unexpected.